Nothing to Lose
by Feudor
Summary: An action/drama story of what happens to the slightly older Kim Possible when the gritty violence and deceit of the real world catches up. No 'pairing',to start with...
1. Foreword

**Foreword**

My name is neither Schooley nor McCorcle. I am in no way associated with the Disney Corporation.

Consequently, I should be doing nothing whatsoever with Kim Possible and her friends.

In spite of that, though, here she is again, together with a number of other characters I don't own, in another not-for-profit fan-fiction of mine.

Let's hope the Disney legal department never finds out. Or, if they do, that they don't mind.

Seriously, this is the result of a pathologically bloated confidence and insane ambitions. I'm not at all sure if I can pull a project of the scale I'm envisaging off, but I've convinced myself to give it a try. Anyway, it's going to be multi-chapter effort, and while I have the main plot-line in my head, I haven't worked out all the details yet. The story itself will be mainly action drama, but there will be a lot of other elements, from angst to comedy.

It is supposed to be a KP Fan-fiction with the flavour a major movie production. Think 'Bond, James Bond'. Or any other big-bucks thriller or action film of your choice. Hence the strange format elements, like soundtrack, opening credits, etc.

If you really hate the music I've chosen, you are free to imagine something else that you think would fit. If you are curious about my choices, though, links will be given to YouTube etc were you can listen for free.

Please note that, despite the use of music and lyrics, this is not a songfic. The lyrics are not really an integral part of the story. The music is rather chosen for the feeling it conveys, and for its perceived suitability for the big screen.

Anyway, here is where the usual plea for reviews and comments come in. The chance that I will be able to complete this rests on the feedback making it seem worth the while, so if you feel like reading more of this, drop me a review!

Finally, a big thank you to Rshiel at DeviantArt for beta-reading. All remaining errors are, of course, my very own!

And so – on with the story!


	2. Chapter 1

I don't own KP, but this is a not-for-profit fan-fiction, so hopefully Disney doesn't mind.

Authors Notes and stuff are in the Foreword, but more will appear here in later chapters, together with response to reviews, if any.

Reviews and comments are more than welcome!

* * *

_The aerial panorama shows the Colorado Rockies spread out far below in a spectacular display of early morning beauty._

_Eagles soar on the updrafts by the cliffs. Deer can be seen moving among the vegetation._

_Descending slightly, a winding blacktop road can be seen, hugging the cliffs and skirting the ravines. It leads from the upland wilderness towards Golden, Co._

_From a still lower vantage point, a bright red compact car becomes visible, __being driven quickly but competently along the road._

_Even closer to the ground, the car __is shown entering a sharp curve over an unusually high drop into a narrow ravine._

_Suddenly, one of the headlamps of the car explodes in a shower of shards and fragments. The outside front tire blows up. The radiator releases a sudden cloud of water vapour._

_Coming in for a close-up, __images of the car tumbling down the cliff fill the screen. Occasionally hitting and bouncing off the rocky sides, it ends up on its roof, resting on the gravel bed of a small stream._

_A brief moment of silence and stillness, then the wreck bursts into a ball of flames._

_//F__ade to black//_

==##((Θ))##==

The large redbrick mansion lay in darkness.

Except for the porch-light, only three high windows on the second floor showed a dim light through the drawn curtains.

From inside the large room, the heavy curtains hid the view of the dark and desolate woodlands around the mansion. They also dampened the noise of the rain being driven against the window panes by the gusting winds.

The room, thus sheltered, was in stark contrast to the outside conditions.

It was a large room, almost like a school classroom in size, and it was furnished as an old style study. The long wall facing the windows was almost entirely covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. One of the shorter walls featured a large open fireplace where a small fire was merrily burning. The opposite wall had tall double doors flanked by cabinets and oil paintings.

In the middle of the room, there was a conference table with six high-backed chairs placed on a lush carpet. A large desk stood before the fireplace.

A thick manila folder, a large computer screen and an old-fashioned brass desk lamp with a green glass shade were the only things on the desk. The computer itself was hidden inside, and the keyboard and the mouse rested on a smaller shelf just under the table-top.

The atmosphere in the room was comfortable and cosy.

There were two persons in the room. Neither of them, however, felt entirely comfortable, and they were far from cosy.

One sat behind the desk, working in silence at the computer. The other, a young woman with red hair, sat in front of the desk.

* * *

Many would have easily identified her as the teen-age, world-saving heroine Kim Possible.

They would have been wrong in many different ways.

The most trivial error would have been due to the simple passage of time. The female was, in fact, no longer a teenager but a 22 year old woman.

The second mistake was that the young woman no longer was a world-saving heroine. Actually, until just recently, she had still been fighting crime and saving people. She had, however, not been doing it as an individual heroine, but as a part-time member of an FBI team. Members of the feds do not get headlines and hero status. They are, partly for their own security, anonymous parts of a government organisation, and don't get much in the way of personal credit for apprehending criminals.

The third, and most surprising, reason that people would have been wrong was, however, that the young woman was soon no longer to be the person known as Kimberly Anne Possible. Kim Possible was, in fact, for all intents and purposes, dead.

A sniper's bullet, a horrible car crash, all that seemed to remain was burnt out wreckage and the unidentifiable remains of a young woman.

* * *

"So," the person behind the computer said, "are you sure you want to go ahead with this?"

The young woman who was, or was not, Kim Possible snorted. "Want to? What, Betty, are you out of mind? How could I ever _want_to cause such a lot of pain and grief to everyone I know?"

Dr. Director wearily closed her one eye.

"Sorry, Kim, bad choice of words. What I meant was, this is the point of no return. Are you ready to do this?"

The redhead hesitated.

Dr. Director sighed, and went back over the arguments once more.

"Look," she said, "this last attempt at your life was _this close _to succeeding."

She held up her right hand, thumb and index finger almost touching.

"If you had not been wearing the protective gear under your street clothes, you _would _be dead now. Whoever is doing this will not be stopping anytime soon. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I do know!"Kim answered in a tone of voice just as weary as betty Director's.

"And you know that the attempts will get more and more ruthless. Your family and your friends will not be safe."

Kim nodded. "Yes, I know. And the best way to find the perpetrator is to let him or her believe that I'm already dead. I get that! I just don't understand why we cannot let my parents and Ron know about it."

Betty Director sighed. "Look, Kim! Trust me! This is serious. We do this properly or we don't do it at all. Your family is just not good enough at acting to risk them knowing. And Ron is even worse! And – what they don't know, they can't be forced to tell. And we only have one chance at this – we can't pull this stunt a second time!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. But I still don't _like_ it."

The leader of Global Justice leaned forward and put her elbows on the desk.

"Listen, this way you have the chance of fixing the sitch. It may take a few weeks, but then you can be back with your loved ones again. The only other way for you to survive is to get you a new identity and let you start over somewhere far away. Then you might **never**see your family again!**"**

Kim just looked at the older woman, sorrow and anguish evident in her expression.

"Well, Kim, it's your decision. Let me just remind you that you came to me. You didn't go to Captain Crowne at FBI headquarters. You came to me. So, please trust me now! I have the hospital journals, the coroner's report and the death certificate all ready to enter into the system. And I'll have your new identity ready for uploading with the day! Just say the word."

"Okay. I know. This is the best way to do this. So, go ahead."

Dr. Director placed the mouse over a dialogue box open on the screen. "It is for the best, Kim. With a new identity, you'll have nothing to lose. You will be free to act and we can remove the threat!"

"Yes. I know. Nothing to lose."

The head of the GJ clicked the button in the box labelled 'execute'. A number of activities appeared on the screen, horizontal bars tracking the progress of each one.

"Nothing to lose," Kim whispered. "'Cause if this doesn't work, I'll have given it all up myself..."

_//Fade//_

* * *

//Soundtrack: 'Nothing to Lose', (Jobson, Wetton), by 'UK', 1979//

//Opening Credits; large yellow text floating up over the screen//

**'****A FEUDOR di LAURENT Production'**

//Red silhouette of young woman swings across the screen with rope and grapple against psychedelic CGI background//

**'****A Kim Possible Fanfiction'**

//Silhouette woman does martial art moves against various silhouette opponents//

'**NOTHING TO LOSE'**

_**Lyrics:**__Now I can really break it  
Now I don't have to fake it  
Forget it then, I don't need it  
If it ain't hot I'll leave it_

//Silhouette woman climbs façade of tall building//

**'****Screenplay by Feudor'**

**'****Beta by Rshiel at DeviantArt'**

_**Lyrics:**__Nothing to show but no-one to stop me I'm going away  
I'm kicking my heels, rolling the wheels and I'm leaving today yeah, yeah_

_Nothing to lose!_

//Silhouette woman with champagne glass in hand does dance steps in front of stylized ballroom background//

**'****Word Processor by OpenOffice'**

**'****Computers by FujitsuSiemens and Acer'**

**'****Windows XP Home Edition OS by Microsoft'**

_**Lyrics:**__I gotta run for my life  
Shoot out and shine those search lights  
I'm ready to cross that border line  
I'm going to make it stick this time_

//Silhouette woman drives vintage sports car in pursuit of opponents//

_**Lyrics:**__Nothing to show but no-one to stop me I'm going away  
I'm kicking my heels, rolling the wheels and I'm leaving today yeah, yeah_

_Nothing to lose_

**'****PART ONE'**

//Silhouette woman walks to centre stage and assumes dramatic pose//

* * *

_//Fade in//_

Kim Possible walked through the almost empty halls of Global Justice HQ feeling ridiculous. She was wearing a much to big boiler suit with an integral hood. The hood was up to hide her hair and to shadow her face as much as possible. To top it off, she was also wearing dark glasses.

She understood that the plan hinged on nobody knowing she was still alive, but she was not used to being stealthy in this farcical cloak and dagger style.

Still, she was on the way to acquiring a more permanent, and hopefully more subtle, disguise.

Global Justice had a special department for the changing of identities. It worked with aliases for agents going under cover as well as with people needing hidden identities and witness protection for their own safety.

Much of the work was related to documents, passports and the like, but there were also specialists who worked with anything from surgery and disguises to language lessons and back-story development.

The sign saying 'Franklin Stone, Head of Identities Dept.' showed Kim that she had reached her destination. She knocked and received a muffled 'come in' as an answer.

Dr. Stone turned out to be a stocky, middle-aged man of average height. He was nearly bald, but compensated the thinning summit with a close-cropped salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes seemed warm and friendly, and Kim relaxed a little. Not another typical mad scientist, at least …

"Oh, come in!" Dr. Stone said, looking up from his paperwork. "I've been expecting you, Miss … eh…"

"Patient. I'm your patient."

"Yes, of course, Miss Patient," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Please, have a seat."

Kim relaxed a bit more. A bit if humour was always a good sign in her books.

They sat down on opposite sides of the desk. Dr. Stone fumbled a bit with some files and documents, which he arranged before him.

"Don't worry," he said. "It is not as dramatic or as surgical as you might imagine."

Kim shrugged, inwardly relieved. "That's good. I don't fancy having to go through some kind of 'Frankenstein's monster' patch-up."

Dr. Stone winced slightly. "Well, that's precisely what we _do not _do in my department. Let me give you a run-down on what we propose. You'll see, some of it is quite normal. Like using professional hair care products to give you a new hair colour."

He put a couple of boxes of an ordinary, top-brand hair colouring product on the desk.

"Since your current colour is quite strong, it would be easiest to give you a new, very dark colour. I'd actually recommend this 'Intensive Shine Black'. Of course, you also need a new hair-cut, but that, I would leave in the hands of our professional stylist. You can chose something together you'd feel comfortable in. Okay?"

"Sure. That's fine"

"Good. Then – eye colour. Nothing strange, here, either. Just a set of coloured lenses. Same instructions and care as for any normal contact lenses."

He put a box of contact lenses and a bottle of disinfectant on the table.

"Now, your eyes are quite strikingly green. I understand your mother has blue eyes. We would suggest the new you should have eyes of a warm reddish brown. Would you be comfortable with that?"

"Sure. But – 'my mother has blue eyes'? You do know who I am, then?"

"Yes, of course. We do need to know as much as _possible_, no pun intended, about the subject in order to design a new identity that is really different. It's important, though, to get you into the habit of thinking of yourself as somebody else. Plus, we do need to keep your name out of the records as much as we can, now that you don't …er … exist anymore."

Kim only nodded. It bothered her more than she would have thought, this methodical stripping away of her whole identity.

"So – skin colour. You have quite fair and rosy skin, going well with your red hair, so we'd want to darken it a bit. This," he produced a plastic bottle, "is a semi-permanent skin colouring we have developed. By semi-permanent, I mean that it won't smear, and you can even take a bath or a shower with it, but if and when you do want it off, we just use this special detergent, and off it goes!"

He produced a second, smaller bottle.

"Fine. What colour?"

"We suggest just a slightly more pale tone, but with a bit more sun-burn to it. Together with the rest of the modifications, it will give you a slightly East Asian look that we think you can pull off quite nicely."

Kim made a 'go on' gesture.

"So, on an almost trivial note, we will be giving you a set of shoes with small risers in them. Not much, just an inch and a bit. Still, it will make some difference, not least to your posture. I take it you are not exactly used to high heels?"

"Eh, no. I have never felt comfortable in shoes like that."

"That's good. If you switch to using such shoes as much as you can, you will get 1) a different look, and 2) a pain in your back. But it's quite effective."

Kim smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Now, for the actual surgery, we are planning just two minor things. The first is, we will build up your cheekbones a little, using this special silicon compound."

He put a large tube of transparent gel on the table.

"We inject this here, under your skin and muscle tissues, right over what is known as the Zygomatic bones."

He pointed to his own face, just under the outside corners under his eyes, and Kim nodded in understanding. Her mother was a brain surgeon, after all, and medical terms were nothing new to her.

"The gel will set and harden, but will still be soft enough to feel like muscle over bone. We shape it with a kind of mould while the process is completed. And, _voila:_ a different and sharper shape to your face, going well with the overall image. At the same time, we will also broaden the bridge of your nose a bit. It's just an optical illusion, really, but this will also give the impression of a slightly shorter nose."

"I see. And will these alterations be … permanent?"

"No, not at all. The gel is actually organic in nature, and with a second injection of this special catabolic agent, it will start to decompose. The process takes about a fortnight, but the alterations will disappear completely."

"Good."

"Now, the final measure we propose is actual cosmetic surgery, but very minor. We would just like to place small cuts here, at the outside corners of your eyes, and give them a bit more of a slant. It's a very simple operation, and with our precision instruments and micro stitching, the wounds will heal in less than a week. This will actually need remedial surgery to get your own appearance back, but that, too, will be a very simple procedure."

Kim nodded slowly, trying to take it all in.

"Okay, that's the whole of it, except that you will get sessions with our coaches to help you change your manner and your speech pattern. What do you think?"

"I don't know. Eh … It doesn't seem to add up to very much, does it?"

"Oh, we can do more drastic things, if you really want to, but in our experience, this sort of programme really is very effective. Just look here!"

He put two sets of pictures before her. One set showed herself in different poses and situations. The other was the same, except that the alterations Dr. Stone had just proposed had been edited in using Photoshop or some other digital wizardry. Just like the Head of Identities had claimed, the difference was surprisingly noticeable.

Kim had secretly feared that she would come out looking like some weird, synthetic being. Or, at best, like some over-age, botox-injected starlet wannabe. This, however, did not look freaky at all.

"Wow," Kim said after a while. "I look just like disciple of Yamanouchi. I could be a cousin to Yori!"

"Can I assume that looking like a cousin to this Yori is a good thing?"

"Dr. Stone, it's perfect."

"Good. I'll have all the cosmetic products sent to your room, while we get started on the surgery. You'll just have to wait for, say, half an hour until the operating theatre is prepped. Meanwhile, you can study this file we have put together on your new identity. Of course, it's still missing things like passport and photo ID, but the facts are all there. Your will soon become Miss Courtney Patricia Judge."

"Courtney Judge, eh? Sounds good. When will it all be ready?"

"Well, if you pardon my blunt language, the birth of Miss Judge will coincide nicely with your funeral."

==##((Θ))##==

Mr. and Mrs. Possible had wanted Kim's funeral to be a small affair.

Of course, it did not turn out that way. There were just too many people who had known her and wanted to say farewell.

The Possible family was naturally well represented. Uncle Slim and cousin Joss were there, as were Nana Possible, cousin Larry and his family. The Stoppables of course also attended, as did Wade Load and his mother.

The entire high school cheer squad turned up, as well as other friends from Middleton High like Monique Walters, Josh Mankey and Big Mike.

There were also new friends from the Colorado School of Mines in Golden (which despite the name offers much more than courses in geology and mining) as well as teachers from all her schools from pre-K to university.

A number of people that Kim and Ron had helped during their all to short career as world-saving heroes also showed up. Celebrities like Britina, MC Honey and the Oh Boyz sat together with business men like Nakasumi-san, the toymaker, Pop Pop Porter and Martin Smarty. The Sensei of Yamanouchi attended together with Yori and Hirotaka.

There was one very surprising addition to the guest list as well as one conspicuous absence. Señor Senior, Sr., had made a one-day deal with the GJ and the local police in order to be able to represent the villain community. The dignified figure of the elderly gentleman was oddly enough accepted without any ill feelings, despite the history of conflict between him and his colleagues and Kim Possible.

The person surprisingly absent was Dr. Director. Mrs. Dr. Possible had early on made it crystal clear that the one-eyed leader of the global crime-fighting organisation would not be welcome at the ceremony. Mrs. Possible blamed GJ for her daughter's choice of profession, and, perhaps unfairly, held Dr. Director personally accountable for the death of her eldest child.

Granted, Kim had chosen the package deal the FBI had offered her, combining university studies, training and active service with a guaranteed lack of inter-continental missions. Her experiences with the GJ were still what had made her consider a career in crime prevention.

The end result was that no government representatives, members of international organisations, or members of police or military forces were present. The only exceptions were a young woman from the International Red Cross, and an elderly gentleman from the UNHCR.

Hopefully, nobody noticed the hidden CCTV cameras that were relaying everything that occurred to an anonymous van outside the cemetery gates.

==##((Θ))##==

Later, the weather outside turned out to be unstable. Over the cemetery itself, the sun was shining, but an ominous wind stirred the leaves and branches. Black clouds were massing at the horizon, and the muted sound of distant thunder was just audible.

GJ operatives were unobtrusively posted around the grave site, equipped with both video and ordinary digital cameras. The telephoto lenses captured everything that could be seen, although audio pick-up was a bit patchy. However, nothing but a subdued but ordinary graveside ceremony was in evidence.

As the parish priest finished the service, a strong gust of wind carried a smell of rain through the trees and the crowd. A flash of lightning was quickly followed by the thunderclap, indicating that the storm was about to hit.

The crowd quickly dispersed under the onslaught of the first, heavy drops of rain.

The GJ cameramen panned out to follow their assigned subjects.

In the white van command centre, Dr. Director could follow the live feeds from all the cameras with the aid of a wall filled with monitor screens.

As the photographers drew back from the graveside scene, the softly undulating landscape came slowly into view. The large old oaks spread their heavy boughs across many of the screens. Small groves of cypresses and decorative evergreens floated into view. The white chapel appeared on a few of the feeds, while others showed the artificial lake at the southern edge of the grounds.

One screen showed the hill marking the centre of the cemetery. Under the huge tree on the apex of the hill, a figure suddenly emerged, playing the bagpipes. Dr. Director could faintly hear the plaintive tune through the earphones. Despite knowing that the Kim Possible was, in fact, not dead, a tear trickled down her cheek.

Another flash of lightning outlined the piper in searing light as the cars started leaving the grounds and a curtain of rain obscured the views of all the cameras.

_//FX: Thunderclap, lightning flashes leading over to black screen//_

_

* * *

  
_

//Soundtrack: 'Arkangel', (Wetton, Young), from 'Live in Osaka' CD, 2003//

//End Credits; yellow text floating up over the screen//

"**NOTHING TO LOSE"**

**'****A Kim Possible Fanfiction'**

**'****End of Part One'**

//Fade in of aerial view of cemetery, gently turning underneath//

_**Lyrics: **__You're with me always  
You hold my very soul  
You never know uncertainty  
Without you I am not whole_

_You are my Arkangel, my heart and my right hand  
When in the face of danger we stand_

**'****by Feudor'**

**'****Beta by Rshiel'**

_**Lyrics: **__You are my courage  
You are my ecstasy  
You give me hope, when there is none  
And sinners just like me_

_Your wings will enfold me, hold me through the night  
You are my Arkangel, my light_

//View gradually panning out and opening up towards the horizon//

**Soundtrack: UK song Nothing to Lose can be found**** at YouTube. **

**Search for "UK Nothing to lose 1979"**

_**Lyrics: **__Forever faithful  
Throughout my frailty  
The times you had to carry me  
The times you let me see  
A candle in the darkness, oil upon the sea  
The star that was guiding me_

**Soundtrack: Arkangel can be found at justmusicstore dot com (replace ' dot ' with actual . )**

**Search for John Wetton, chose 'Live at Osaka disc 1', and the track 'Arkangel' and click on ****'Prelisten track'**

_**Lyrics: **__I feel your presence  
Your voice I know so well  
You caught me when I stumbled down  
The steepest steps of Hell  
The trials of my childhood, will be the death of me  
Stay with me, Arkangel, with me_

//View shows panoramic view of stormy weather over the Colorado Rockies//

**Coming soon to a Computer Screen near you: **

**Nothing to Lose, part 2**


	3. Chapter 2

_**Standard disclaimer: KP belongs to Disney and this is just a piece of non-profit fan-fiction. **_

_**Thanks to Bobby'at', borvaintavers86, **__**Joe Stoppinghem, Sentinel103, Muzzlehatch, Yankee Bard, immortal7 and Ormagoden for reviews and comments. **_

_**For more extensive Author's Notes, see end of submission. **_

_**Leave a review, get a response.**_

_**Thanks to Rshiel at deviantArt for beta-reading. Remaining errors are, of course, my own. **_

_____\o0o/_____

_No matter __how she twists the wheel, the car is drawn inexorably towards the precipice._

_The speed is breathtaking, although the crash itself seems to take forever. _

_Hurtling__ through the roadside barrier, the car starts to tumble through the air. _

_She is floating inside it, __apparently weightless, as if she were part of the crew of a space station. _

_The mountain lion in the back seat regards her reproachfully. _

"_This is what happens when man builds roads and brings technology to places where it doesn't belong," it says. _

"_Oh, come on," she defends herself. "Who would buy you your treats if I didn't have my car?"_

_The cat licks the chocolate chip ice-cream from its paws. "I think you should get off, now", it says. _

_Scrabbling wildly for her cell phone, keys and purse, she is thrown clear of the car to find herself bouncing and sliding along the face of the cliffs. Every time she hits the rock face, a bone in her body is broken. _

_The car hits the bottom and explodes in a ball of fire. Molten metal and rock starts __to fill the ravine. The fiery surface soon approaches the small ledge where she ended her long fall. _

_She can't get away, because __the cubs of the mountain lion are holding her down. _

"_You must feed us the ice-cream", they cry in high, squeaky voices, clawing her back. _

_And the fire engulfs her,__ head first. _

_____\o0o/_____

The recurring nightmare made her shaky and slightly dizzy as she finished dressing in the bathroom. She took a deep breath, and steadied her hands to allow her to put her coloured contacts in.

Dr. Director, sitting at the small desk and working with a laptop, looked up as she returned to the hotel room.

"Looks good!" she said. "Very much the new you!"

The woman who used to be Kim Possible was dressed in a rather formal, navy blue business suite. She had black, high-heeled shoes and an expensive silk scarf around her neck.

She didn't look much like a confident business woman, though, but rather like a film extra that wouldn't be asked back to the set of the Wall Street movie project.

"I don't feel like a new me; I feel like the old one, dressed for a fancy dress ball I don't want to go to!"

"Oh, it will pass as you start working on it.

It was the day after the funeral, and Kim and Dr. Director were supposed to draw up the strategy for flushing out the assassin and whoever had put the contract up.

"Pull up a chair, and I'll go through the situation for you," Betty Director said, turning the laptop so that Kim could see. "These are the videos and the photos from yesterday."

Kim obediently sat down and looked at the screen. "So, anything interesting?"

"Actually, not really. Most of what we could see was what you'd generally expect at such an event. There were just about three observations of interest."

"Like Señor Senior, I assume?"

"Yeah, like him. Although I doubt there is a clue for us in his presence. The Seniors aren't all that criminal any more. The old man is beginning to take it easy, and Junior … well, he's just not that evil and spends most of his time just being Junior."

"Well, I don't really know what to think about Junior, but I doubt Senior is involved. He's always seemed kind of sincere and up-front, to me."

"Yes, I agree. Moving on, the second observation of interest is the man with the Highland pipes. He was too far away to be identified for certain, but the general build suggest it could have been Duff Killigan."

"I can believe that. But what does it mean?"

"Well, either he had nothing to do with the attempts on your life, and was there just to pay his respects…"

"Or he was involved somehow, and was there just to muddy the waters?"

"Exactly. Could be either way."

"And the third observation?"

"This figure here. It's a bad picture and it was very dark under the trees, so we can't identify her for certain…"

".. but it's Shego, isn't it?"

"Yes, we think so. And once again, we can't tell if she's there out of respect, or if she's there to see the assassination through to the end."

Kim sighed. "I'm actually rather reluctant to believe she, or Drakken, had anything to do with it."

"Kim, you must try to disregard your feelings or sympathies in this investigation! I know you kind of like her, but…"

Kim would have been happy had she been able to do just that, and put her feelings away in some dark compartment of her mind.

"It's not that," she said. "Or, not only that, anyway. The thing is, both she and Drakken could have killed me a hundred times over in the last couple of years if they had so wished…"

"True, but she is a mercenary. Somebody could have hired her to do this now, even if she did not have the motive herself, and didn't do it earlier."

"She's not really a killer, though, is she now?"

"Well, if the price is right… We can't really rule it out."

"I don't think it is our hottest clue, though…"

"No, I agree. But what priority should we have, then?"

Kim thought for a minute, while Betty Director observed her with interest. She found it difficult to focus on these 'three observations of interest', as Betty had said. To her, it would have been much more interesting to see how her parents, and Ron, were coping. Still, she had to get on with the difficult part of the plan. After having set everything up, how should they really go about flushing the murderer out? There was precious little to go on, and if she was to disregard her feelings and intuitions, Kim felt she had absolutely nothing.

"I think we should check Professor Dementor," Kim finally said.

"Any particular reason?"

"Well, he is a sad, strange little man, and quite vindictive. And I did have quite a …eh … violent conflict with him about six months ago. Also, I don't like him at all!"

Dr. Director gave a snort. "Ah… okay. Three good reasons, I see."

"Well, do you have a better idea?"

"As a matter of fact, no. By all means, let's start with Professor de Mentz. I'll keep analyzing any information I can get, and get in contact with you if something better turns up."

Kim still felt very uncertain. "Okay, so I go for the nutty professor, but how?"

Dr. Director picked up a black briefcase from the floor by her feet.

"Let's get you equipped, first," she said. "I have a number of things that have all been put together for you by Dr. Llwelyn at our technology department, without knowing exactly who it is intended for."

Elisabeth Director snapped the locks of the briefcase and opened it.

"You can take the laptop, to start with. It's just an ordinary PC, though, but useful. Here, however, is something a bit more interesting.

"This is a communications device with highly advanced scrambling and cryptography capabilities. Essentially, it gives you very fast and totally secure internet access. It also gives you voice and video connection with me, rather like one of those skype telephones."

It didn't look very impressive, just like a rather big USB Memory stick with a few buttons and dials on it.

"Why can't I just use my Kimmunicator? It's safe enough, I'm sure."

"Well, yes, from everybody but Mr. Load, that is..."

"Oh. Sorry, didn't think of that."

Dr. Director produced another, larger device.

"This is, basically, a printer. It can handle up to European A4 size with very good quality. It comes with a set of different papers and plastic materials. It can print a lot of useful things for you, wherever you are. Tickets, business cards, even simple plastic identity cards. It will let you forge a number of useful documents to assume different identities during your time in the field. Oh, and it's also a scanner, by the way."

"Uh-huh! Nice. Can it also print money?"

"Well, almost. With a little hacking from GJ, it could print you a temporary ATM card, and let you withdraw local currency in most of the world. Such transactions, though, could probably be traced, so it would be an emergency option only."

"Ah. Still, might come in handy. So what else have you got for me?"

"Just the normal 'spy' kit. An ordinary but rather good digital camera, a small audio recorder, and stuff like that. No guns or weapons that would look suspicious going through customs, so do be careful!"

Dr. Director turned the briefcase around so that it faced Kim and stood up.

"So, that's it, really. I'll send you a secure email with your flight information, and you'll be able to pick your tickets up at the airport. The up-to-date file on Dementor will also be downloaded to the laptop. We'll keep in contact once every day, at 1900 hours, Colorado time."

Kim felt a bit rushed. "What, that's it? Am I just supposed to knock on the door to his castle and ask him if he's been naughty?"

"Don't worry. You will get a cover story and a strategy for entry through the data link as well."

"Ah … okay. But what will I do? How do I actually make him tell me anything?"

"You'll have to play it by ear, I'm afraid. After all, you know him better than me."

"And where am I going? Do we even know that?"

"Oh, that we do know. Dementor is in Germany, of course. A small town in Bavaria, to be more precise. We'll get you a flight to Munich to start with!"

* * *

//Soundtrack: 'Nothing to Lose', (Jobson, Wetton), from album 'Danger Money' by 'UK', 1979//

//Opening Credits; large yellow text floating up over the screen//

**'****A FEUDOR di LAURENT Production'**

//Montage of travel pictures: Courtney Judge going through security check; boarding airplane, sitting in first class cabin of Boeing 747…//

**'****A Kim Possible Fanfiction'**

//Boeing 747 taking off; climbing high over the cloud cover… //

'**NOTHING TO LOSE'**

_**Lyrics**__**: see chapter 1**_

//Pilot talking to traffic control, rotating radar dish on tower, … //

**'****Screenplay by Feudor'**

**'****Beta by Rshiel at DeviantArt'**

//747 sweeping overhead on approach to runway; landing gear touching down on tarmac, … //

**'****Word Processors by OpenOffice and Microsoft'**

**'****Computers by FujitsuSiemens, Acer and Apple'**

**'****Windows XP Home Edition OS by Microsoft'**

//Going through customs, catching a cab, …//

**'PART ****TWO'**

//cab driving away into the distance, road sign spelling out 'München'…//

* * *

The floor of the long and gradually narrowing valley was lush and green, dotted with farms and patches of woodland. Narrow roads wound their ways through the countryside, and the occasional stream tumbled down the mountainsides to add their water to the river that had likely created the valley in the first place. Higher up, the deciduous trees gave way to conifers. Even higher and further away, the craggy granite rocks and snow covered tops of the Alps loomed.

A testament to 19th century engineering skills, a small railway branch line hugged the mountainside. A short train laboured towards the head of the valley, clattering over bridges and embankments, rushing through tunnels and cuttings. It was the 10:45 to Bauerndorf, the end of the line.

Most of the passengers were local residents, and the rest were mostly hikers wanting to wander the paths and tracks through the breathtaking landscape beyond Bauerndorf. Dressed in sturdy walking shoes, they carried rucksacks and walking sticks full of badges and pins from earlier holidays.

One passenger, however, stood out from the rest. A slim, dark haired woman in an elegant and obviously expensive business dress, wearing sunglasses and carrying a small leather briefcase, she looked like a racehorse in a herd of mules, a precious stone in a heap of gravel, or a film star that had somehow lost her way upon leaving the night-club in the small hours of the morning.

Lost was also precisely what she felt after getting off the train and finding herself on the square outside the Bauerndorf railway station. Courtney, the person she now tried to think of herself as being, felt out of place in the medieval fairy tale setting of the little town. She also felt a bit lost in the extended mission she was now carrying out in order to find her own murderer.

Courtney looked at her watch. It was just after 12 o'clock, and she decided it was probably too early to seek Professor Dementor out. She decided to treat herself to some lunch instead.

The square held a number of more or less historical buildings, from the white church in German Baroque to the large, medieval pump-house in the middle of the cobble-stone expanse. Luckily, some of the buildings were Gasthofs or Coffee shops. She chose the one that seemed the most up-market and expensive and sat down at one of the outdoor tables in the shade, gearing up to giving a guest performance in the production 'Miss Judge in Bauerndorf'.

A waiter appeared and greeted her in German.

Kim had taken some foreign languages, both as extra classes in high school and at the FBI Academy. Unfortunately, she had chosen Japanese (to keep Ron company), French and Spanish, figuring that this would help if she had cases with connections in Canada or Mexico.

Nevertheless, she guessed that the waiter more or less said "Welcome, Miss. Would you like to have something to drink before ordering?", and responded in English with the fake Irish accent she had been coached to use. Apparently, it was easier to affect another dialect than to remove her American pronunciation and speech pattern.

"Good morning," she said, without opening the menu she was handed. "What do you recommend for lunch?"

Luckily, the waiter spoke a little English. "Oh, for starter, the salad with the ham and the cheese and the … eh … local things … is very good. Or there is the … how shall I say…"

"Sallad will be fine. What about the main course?"

"The fish, absolutely. Very fresh … eh … _forellen_ … with almonds."

"Perfect! And some mineral water to drink, please. Sparkling, not still!"

"Of course, Miss!"

The waiter hurried away to prepare her order. Kim thought it had gone fairly well. She hadn't made a complete fool of herself, and hopefully, she had seemed as elegant and self assured as the Courtney Judge persona was supposed to be. Hopefully, she would also get an edible lunch.

She decided to test another of the mannerisms she had been encouraged to take up, and produced a cigarette and a long holder from her purse.

She was actually not comfortable at all taking up smoking, but she had to admit it went well with the rest of the Courtney characteristics. Luckily, the extra long holder was fitted with a special filter to remove tar, and two small catalytic converters to clean the smoke from volatile organic compounds to the highest extent possible. The result was a rather cool and fairly mild smoke that she could actually inhale without coughing, and which would make minimal damage to her lungs.

_____\o0o/_____

Leaning back and waiting for her food, a stab of regret and longing suddenly pierced her. She found herself feeling very low, and even had trouble keeping the tears from her eyes.

It was all a bit unexpected. She had been trying to tell herself that this was just another solo mission, and lose herself in the practicalities and travel arrangements. Now, sitting here at a nice restaurant in a beautiful holiday town, she suddenly missed Ron very, very much.

Ron would have loved sitting here, in this historical and picturesque little town, and eating at such a genuine restaurant, something they had almost never had the opportunity to do.

Oh, they had been abroad more often than they could remember, but this had almost exclusively been for missions. Parachuting in, crawling through the ventilation ducts, fighting the villain and getting extracted by GJ or the local authorities – that was a whole different kettle of fish. It certainly wasn't Trout with Almonds at a pleasant country inn, anyway.

The summer after graduation would have been a perfect time for travelling and really seeing the world. That didn't happen, though. They spent the time taking it easy and exploring all the different aspects of their relationship, including the physical, instead. The only trip they made out of the tri-city area was to Montana to see Joss and relax a bit on Uncle Slim's ranch.

Not that she regretted any of it; it was a great time in her life. She hadn't seemed to have a care in the world.

Then it all got much more difficult. Ron got accepted by a really good Vocational Education Programme on the culinary arts, in Fartherton. He felt he had to take that chance, even if it meant living about two and a half hours by car away from Middleton. He got a small flat near the campus and now rarely had time to come home more than every other weekend.

Kim, on the other hand, was accepted at a number of prestigious universities. She turned them all down, however, when she got the unexpected offer from, of all people, the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

It was a perfect mix of activities for her, and meant she didn't have to travel all that much. It got her enrolled in the Colorado School of Mines in Golden, just outside Denver, which wasn't that far from Middleton. Unfortunately, it was in the opposite direction from Fartherton, and meeting Ron had become a matter of puzzling out a weekend here and a weekend there where they would both be free and able to meet up.

So, while Ron and Kim were definitely still an item, they were struggling with all the difficulties of a long distance relationship. And on top of this, there was this latest complication with her being dead and all.

The food was excellent, but Kim couldn't really enjoy her meal.

She dutifully finished her lunch, included a big tip when settling the bill, and went in search of the Pretzel Bäckerei de Mentz, Gmbh.

_____\o0o/_____

The de Mentz family business was located in a big red-brick building down by the railway on the outskirts of the small town. It looked like a cross between a church and an engine shed with its many high windows and big, wooden loading bay doors. An inscription just under the roof announced that it had been built in 1882.

A small and ugly two-storey office building had been added to the main hall at the corner facing towards the town.

Kim went in and stepped up to the desk where a secretary doubled as receptionist and switch-board operator.

The sign on top of the desk gave her name as "Frau Felsenmauer". The woman herself looked like an aggressively blond Bonnie Rockwaller.

"Good afternoon", Kim said in her best Ms Judge persona. "I am from the European Union Agency of Trade and Industry. I'm here to see Mr. de Menz, please."

The Bonnie look-alike had piercing blue eyes to go with her hair colour.

"Did you have an appointment? she asked in an overly formal manner. "Herr de Menz is still at lunch, but you can sit down and wait while I call him for you."

Kim was left to look at a very boring display of memorabilia from the pretzel business while the secretary made some calls.

After about ten minutes, a tall and well-muscled man approached her. He must have been a good bit over two meters. His left hand was hidden in a tan glove and looked unnaturally stiff. Prosthetic limb, Kim guessed.

"Frau Judge? My name is Hans Becker. I am the … v_orarbeiter _… of the … _fabrik_. I am to offer you a tour while you wait for the _Herr Direktor_. He will be here in about _ein halbes stunde_. _Bitte?"_

He gestured for Kim to follow him and led the way out on to the floor of the factory.

The tour was marginally less boring than looking at the company museum. Luckily, looking bored out her mind was quite in tune with the Courtney Judge attitude to life.

Making pretzels also seemed to be far from a trivial process, and she could actually muster some sort of interest in the advanced procedures of the factory.

She was shown the very large tanks of dough that were filled every Sunday and were big enough to supply the raw material for a week's production. The vessels were evidently 22 meter high marvels of technology.

The automated nozzles that shaped the individual pretzels were guided by state of the art computer technology.

The new-born pretzels were fermented on big trays in large containers at 37 degrees Centigrade. After several hours, they were taken out, boiled and the bathed in lye. They were then glazed and salted and cooked to perfection in big, extra energy efficient ovens.

The packaging department was fully automated.

It was all a marvel of high-tech, and Hans was obviously very proud.

Thankfully, Herr de Mentz eventually came back from lunch, his arrival rescuing Kim from further exposure to the corporate boasting. She shook hands with her tour guide and followed Frau Felsenmauer into the large office of the company director.

_____\o0o/_____

The second storey office had a panorama window looking out over the factory floor along one entire side of the room. A large part of the room held further displays of historical pretzel-making implements. A big, polished copper kettle with a long wooden ladle in it, a small hand cart for a street vendor, a small wood fired oven, and much more.

Professor Dementor did, of course, not wear his usual super-villain gear, but was easily recognisable, anyway. He was neatly dressed in a black, pin-stripe, double breasted business suit and wore a red tie with tiny golden pretzels on it. A very big and fluffy white cat leaned against his legs and purred.

He asked Frau Felsenmauer to bring two cups of coffee, and showed Kim to the chair in front of his enormous, but empty, desk.

"Please to sit down, Frau Judge, and tell me what I can do for you!"

His English was very good, and he spoke calmly with almost no accent at all.

Kim suddenly found herself somewhat unprepared. It was all very well to get an interview with Dementor to try to get a clue about his possible connection to her assassination, but she did not have much experience about how to get such information out of villains without arousing suspicion. She had been more of a "sneak in and beat'em up" operative. She had a suspicion that this was not the way representatives of European Union agencies usually behaved.

"Thank you," she began, hesitantly. "Well, as you know, I am from the Trade and Industry Agency of the EU Directorate General of Enterprise, and I am here to look into your recent plans and activities."

The cat jumped up into Dementor's lap, wanting attention.

The professor blinked a few times, like a sleepy owl with indigestion. Then his face lit up with a wide smile.

"Oh, that! That is easily done!"

He leaned over to the intercom on his desk. "_Frau Felsenmaur? Never mind the coffee, this will take no time at all!" _he said in German.

He then turned back to Kim while searching his upper desk drawer for something.

"You see, the plans for the extension of the factory were completed months ago and the building is already finished. The extra pretzel line is in full operation, and we actually paid back the EU loan as recently as last week. See?"

Kim looked at the bank receipt he offered her, a bit bewildered.

"I am sorry you came all this way for such a small matter, but as you can see, everything is now in order!"

"Mr. de Mentz," Kim said, collecting herself for a new attempt at getting some information out of the Bavarian baker. "It's not about the extension and the loan. I could have checked that easily with our economics department. No, it is about an altogether more complicated matter, concerning a certain … shall we say, rivalry and conflict?"

Kim hoped this would be hint enough that she wanted to talk about villain/hero issues, and indeed, Dementor's face fell. Covering his insecurity, he made use of the intercom again.

"_Frau Felsenmauer? I think we need that coffee, after all. And please bring some biscuits, too."_

"Complicated, eh? Oh, I understand!" He brightened again. "It's about the conflict with that no-good nephew of mine, isn't it? Oh, how stupid of me! Of course!"

He leaned back in his chair, once again at ease.

"That's also quite under control. The actions of my disloyal relative were clearly an infringement of several of my registered trade marks, and the use of the family pretzel recipe was in breach of the conditions of my great-grandfather's will. The matter is now to be settled in court next month, and I can assure you that the de Mentz Pretzeln Bäckerei will follow the decision of the magistrates to the letter!"

He contacted his secretary with the intercom again. _"Never mind the coffee, Greta! We're done already!"_

Kim closed her eyes and sighed in frustration.

"Herr de Mentz, we are **not** done yet. This is far more serious! I need to talk to you about your activities in relation to any measures you may have taken with the purpose of killing those disturbing your operations!"

Now, Dementor started to get angry. _"Gretchen, coffee, please! And bring a couple of cakes, too!"_

He turned to Kim, obviously somewhat agitated.

"I am not at all sure what you are implying, but I do not like it. Are you accusing me of something?"

The cat evidently shared the irritation of its master, and hissed menacingly at Kim.

"Come now, Herr de Mentz. You know that some things have got to be gotten rid off in order to have a successful operation," Kim hinted.

Dementor seemed to suddenly realize something. He fell back in his chair and laughed, bouncing the cat about on his lap.

"Oh, I'm sorry! For a moment there, I didn't realize what you were talking about. But of course! _Gretel, cancel the coffee! It's all taken care off!"_

Dementor took a thick file out of his desk and showed it to Kim._ . _

"Here," he said. "I admit we did have a tiny problem. Nothing we like to talk about too much. But we got the pest control in, and I can assure you, we have absolutely no cockroaches whatsoever on the premises any more!"

Kim was getting angry, too, both with herself and with the diminutive super-villain. How dense could he be? She would have to spell it out for him.

"Shut up, de Mentz," she shouted. "Get the coffee in here at once, because we'll need it. This isn't about **bugs** **in your pretzels**!"

Cat and master gave her the evil eye, but de Menz obeyed. "_Felsenmauer, get the damn coffee in here, now. And bring a bottle of Jägermeister, too!"_

"This is about your plans to take over the world," Kim continued. "Did you really think we wouldn't know? I need you to tell me all about it, and no more stupidities about nephews, cockroaches or new factories!"

Greta Felsenmauer stomped into the room. She put cups, glasses, biscuits and cake on the table, showing her obvious irritation in a very Rockwaller-like manner.

She then took the empty tray and wacked Dementor upside the head with it, making a sound not unlike a Chinese gong. She shouted something about _verdamter kaffee_, and took a healthy swig of Jägermeister directly from the bottle. Thereupon, she took the bottle with her and left, slamming the door and causing two of the framed photographs to fall from the wall.

"I am so sorry, Frau Judge," Dementor said after a pause to collect his wits. "It seems we are all out of liquor."

After a while, he continued with the business at hand.

"So, fine," he said, suddenly somewhat agitated. "You obviously suspect what I am doing, so I'll come clean.

"Yes, I do plan of taking over _die ganzer welt_! I have a new and fail-safe scheme. Success is as _gut_ as guaranteed."

Finally, Kim though. He is going into ranting mode.

"My plan is brilliant! It's all about ze marketing! And the veapon is – limited series of novelty flavour pretzels!"

Kim was flabbergasted. More bloody pretzels?

"The first three _monaten_, it will be ze liquorice flavour pretzel. Then, garlic. The _dritter_ period will be ze mint! And to end the first year, _preiselbeeren_, … that is, eh … lingonberries. And each vill only be sold for _drei monaten_, except for in ze very expensive gift boxes and collector's sets. People will just have to buy it! I vill make ze _miljonen_! I will totally dominate ze vorld market in pretzels! I will be ZE PRETZEL KING! **DER PRETZELKÖNIG**!!"

Kim was stunned speechless.

"L-Li-Liquorice?" she finally stammered. "Won't that taste kind of … weird?"

"My dear Frau Judge, it can taste like ze fried arse of baboon in snot sauce for all I care! It von't matter! It's all in ze marketing! In the novelty! It vill be ze biggest innovation in pretzel history. I'll rule ze world, I tell you!"

"You're crazy!" Kim gasped, but Dementor only launched into a mad villainous laugh that would have made Señor Senior, Sr., green with envy.

"I just don't understand," Kim continued, "Why did you want to kill Kim Possible?"

The mad baker stopped laughing.

"Kill Kim?" he asked. "Why would I want to kill Kim? She _sind ja_ already _ganz tot, nicht_? Auto accident? Women drivers, pfaugh!"

"That was no accident. She was murdered, and I want to know why you did it."

Dementor's villainous glee disappeared like at the flip of a switch.

"Hänsel! _Kommen sie bitte herein, bitte_!" he bellowed.

He then turned back to Kim.

"I am most sorry for you. I did not do anything to Kim Possible. She was no threat to me! Nice girl, too. But you, on the other hand. Now that you know my plan for the world pretzel market, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to live."

Her big and powerful tour guide from earlier stepped into the room, and cracked his knuckles.

Herr Doktor Professor de Mentz cackled with insane glee.

"I think you are about to have a little accident," he said.

_____\o0o/_____

Kim realized she was in big trouble. She had to get out of the clutches of Professor Dementor, but she couldn't really start doing any of her usual crazy cheerleader moves. Dementor would surely recognize it, and her cover would be blown. On the other hand, she had to defend herself, otherwise her life would end a second time. Most people only have one life, and Kim thought she could count herself lucky just to live twice, much less hope for a third life as well.

Hans seemed to be a serious opponent. He was built on the lines of Steel Toe or Pain King: big on muscle but perhaps not so fast. If he were to get in close, Kim would be in trouble, though.

Seeing her apprehension, Hans smiled broadly and removed the glove on his left hand. Or rather, he removed the entire hand, and replaced it with an impressive-looking steel claw from the pocket of his coat. It looked powerful enough to crush bone and chew through concrete.

Kim glanced around the room, frantically looking for something usable. And she found it.

In a flash, she grabbed the wooden ladle from the polished kettle on display in the room, and adopted a Kendo stance using it is as a substitute for the traditional _shinai_ wooden sword. This gave her an advantage in reach and would allow her to keep Claws at a distance. At the same time, it let her bring an entirely different fighting style to the fray, one that Dementor wouldn't have seen her use.

Hans mad a grab for her. As she thought, he wasn't all that fast, and she easily stepped out of the way, giving him a hard whack on his left ear in the process.

He grunted and shook his head, but tried again. This time, she hit him on the elbow.

Having by this time understood that a wooden ladle could give quite painful effects when applied with enthusiasm, Hans then tried to grab her weapon and wrench it out of her hands. He gripped it near the end with his steel hand, and neatly snapped it of. This, however, lined the splintered top of the ladle up perfectly with his chin, and he now only held it with his normal hand. With a sharp push, Kim managed to give him a ladle-boosted uppercut on the jaw, almost driving the wooden shaft through into his mouth.

Hans gave a pain-filled shriek and clutched at the ladle, blood gushing out of his mouth. He was, at least for the moment, out of the fight and Dementor decided to step in.

The stocky businessman rummaged in his desk drawer and Kim had no trouble imagining what he was looking for. Accordingly, when be brought up an old WWII Luger, she was ready and gave him a sharp rap over the hand.

The now thoroughly mad scientist yelped in pain and dropped back into his chair, clutching his injured hand. The white cat hissed in outrage at Kim's audacity in harming its master.

Both men rendered momentarily harmless, Kim saw her chance and took it. Dropping the stump of the ladle, she grabbed the pistol from the desk and started edging backwards in the direction of the door, keeping both Hans and Dementor in sight.

It would have worked, too, if Kim had not overlooked something important.

Suddenly, a slender but strong arm had her in a choke hold from behind. The quickly increasing pressure started to cut off her air supply.

A classic mistake, she had concentrated on the big and strong opponent and forgotten Frau Felsenmauer in the outer office.

"Drop the gun!" the Bonnie-twin hissed. "Drop it **now**!"

Kim quickly found that not only did Felsenmauer **look** like Bonnie, she also had the strength and balance of the ex-cheerleader. Hans and de Mentz having taken cover behind the desk, there was nothing to shoot at. There was not much Kim could do but obey if she didn't want to pass out from asphyxiation.

Further similarities with Rockwaller, though: Greta wasn't an experienced and professional fighter. Having reached her goal of making Kim drop the gun, she relaxed. It was just a little bit, but it was enough for Kim. She could draw a much needed breath and marshal her strength to suddenly jack-knife her body forward, throwing her captor over her shoulder and slamming her to the floor.

It almost worked. The receptionist was quick, though. She managed to land on her feet, and to use the momentum to continue the motion, in turn flipping Kim over her shoulder. Unfortunately, there was now no more floor to land on, and Kim slammed, back first, into the desk. Shards of cups and glasses made deep cuts in her back while the rest of the coffee-ware, together with the biscuits and cakes, flew like shrapnel through the room.

As an experienced cheerleader, Kim was used to tumbling and flipping through the air, and was not at all disoriented by the fall. As a veteran of innumerable fights with villains, henchmen and Shego, she was also no stranger to hurt and injury. She noted the pain in her back and then just ignored it, getting up and facing Felsenmauer across the desk.

Dementor was still nursing his hand and actually sucking his thumb. Hans was on his knees, still dazed from pain. The furious secretary, though, was between Kim and the door, and looked extremely determined to stop her leaving.

Kim thought quickly. She took a step back, and threw one of the surviving biscuit plates like a Frisbee straight at the face of the Bavarian Bonnie Bitch.

"So sorry, Ladies and Gentlemen. I'll die another day, please and thank you!"

Then she turned around, and hurled herself through the big window overlooking the factory.

_____\o0o/_____

Kim hit the security railing of an elevated walkway in a burst of broken glass, collecting a batch of new cuts and bruises on the way.

The walkway was about three meters above the factory floor. The ladders and stairs leading down were all a long way away. She could hear shouting and movement in the office she had just left, and knew she had to get away from there quickly.

Missing her grapple gun, she decided to just jump over the railing, landing on one of the conveyor belts moving unbaked pretzels to the fermentation boxes.

A loud klaxon started sounding. Perhaps it was the fire alarm, or it was the de Mentz company intruder alert signal. Either way, the workers in the factory instantly focused on Kim, and started closing in on the hostile that was evidently bent on upsetting the production and damaging the facilities.

It was much like dropping into a Drakken lair to be surrounded by angry henchmen, except that these were probably innocent bakery employees that shouldn't be too badly beaten up.

She looked around her, making note of her surroundings: ovens, the pretzel-shaping machinery, the packaging department, the loading bay, and the bottom of the big containers of dough.

The latter caught her attention. There was a control panel in the middle of the line of nozzles making pretzel shapes on four parallel conveyor belts, and the operator was approaching her fast, a large wrench in his hand.

She easily flipped over his head, no longer caring if Dementor saw her doing any cheerleading moves, and landed by the controls.

Lots of buttons and knobs. One, however, was bigger than the others and outlined in black and yellow stripes. The label said _Notevakuierung. _

An inarticulate cry of rage from above cut short her time for reflection. Frau Felsenmauer had just jumped out of the broken office window, and was running along the catwalk, face contorted in fury.

Lacking any better alternatives, Kim pressed the big button. Another klaxon immediately added its voice to the noise in the factory hall.

She took off towards the packaging department and the loading bay, darting around obstacles and factory workers like a running back, just as Felsenmauer reached the control panel and the dough nozzles.

At that moment, the emergency valves in the overhead containers released, and an enormous glob of the pretzel dough was expelled over the factory floor.

Kim was just able to keep ahead of the big wave of dough. The irate secretary, though, was caught and engulfed, her angry screams gradually turning into bubbles in the dough.

Meanwhile, Herr de Mentz had obviously overcome the pain in his hand and appeared in the broken window of his office, shooting wildly with his Luger but mostly hitting random objects in the factory.

Kim jumped over the lye baths, avoided two angry workers, and rushed through packaging, scattering pretzels high and low. Dementor's bullets ricocheted around her like angry bees. The klaxons added their voices to the angry shouts of the bakery employees, and the sounds of falling and malfunctioning machinery.

A large vintage Magirus Deutz panel truck, beautifully painted with the company logo, was being loaded. The back doors were open, and two persons were driving small forklifts to fill it with pretzelly goodness.

When Kim appeared, and the bullets started to fly, these two immediately fled the scene, unable to see the need to defend the pretzels with their lives.

The driver was not in the cab, and Kim quickly climbed in. As she started the engine, it became apparent that the driver had been to the restroom, since he hurriedly appeared, trying to run towards his truck with his pants still bunched around his feet.

Kim managed to engage the first gear of the stiff, unsynchronized gearbox and took off straight through the loading bay doors, scattering wood splinters and pretzels.

She accelerated across the yard and through the factory gates, engine roaring and tyres screeching, narrowly missing the 15:05 bus to Bad Wippersnap.

She left a scene of chaotic destruction behind her, pretzel dough seeping from all the windows and doors of the building, and smoke emerging from all the short-circuited equipment.

In the opening to the loading bay, Hans Becker appeared, feet firmly planted on the ground among the wood splinters and the broken pretzels. As he glared after the disappearing panel truck, flexing his steel claw menacingly, a blob of growling dough with Felsenmauer filling walked up to stand beside him.

Courtney Judge had evidently made some very determined enemies.

_____\o0o/_____

As she sped along the winding country road away from Bauerndorf, Kim was very disappointed. The overall results of her undercover penetration of the lair of her old enemy were meagre, to say the least. She had uncovered nothing at all about the plot behind her murder. She was no nearer to finding the perpetrators.

She had merely managed to provoke de Mentz into an insane overreaction at the revelation of his aggressive but mainly harmless commercial and marketing plans.

She was actually not entirely certain that liquorice flavoured pretzels didn't constitute a crime against humanity, but couldn't really bring herself to care all that much.

Still, she could derive an infinitesimal measure of comfort from the fact that she had escaped the clutches of the enraged Professor. Now she just had to escape any pursuers and regroup to continue her investigation from some other angle.

She hoped the de Mentz factory was adequately insured. She wouldn't be all that comfortable if she had managed to ruin his family business.

_____\o0o/_____

In his office, a deflated Dementor looked out over his ruined factory.

He dropped his Luger and staggered over to his desk. As he sank down into his office chair, the cat jumped back up into his lap.

"_Scheiße_, " he sighed in defeat, stroking the cat between the ears. "I could just as well go back to the death-rays and the doomsday devices!"

* * *

//Soundtrack: 'No More Mister Nice Guy', (Cooper, Bruce), from album 'Billion Dollar Babies' by Alice Cooper, 1973 //

//End Credits; yellow text floating up over the screen//

"**NOTHING TO LOSE"**

**'A Kim Possible Fanfiction'**

**'End of Part ****Two'**

//external aerial view of the Pretzel Bäckerie de Mentz, Gmbh, smoke and dough escaping the building, confused employees milling about//

_**Lyrics: **__ I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing  
Till they got a hold of me  
I opened doors for little old ladies  
I helped the blind to see  
I got no friends 'cause they read the papers  
They can't be seen with me  
And I'm gettin' real shot down  
And I'm feelin' mean_

**'by Feudor'**

**'Beta by Rshiel'**

_**Lyrics:**_ _No more Mister Nice Guy  
No more Mister Clean  
No more Mister Nice Guy  
They say he's sick, he's obscene_

//View gradually panning out, showing the fire brigade and ambulances arriving at the scene //

**Intro soundtrack: UK song Nothing to Lose can be found ****at YouTube.**

**Search for "UK Nothing to lose 1979"**

_**Lyrics:**_ _I got no friends 'cause they read the papers  
They can't be seen with me  
And I'm feelin' real shot down  
And I'm gettin' mean_

_No more Mister Nice Guy  
No more Mister Clean  
No more Mister Nice Guy  
They say he's sick, he's obscene_

**Outro soundtrack: ****Alice Coopers song No More Mister Nice Guy can be found ****at YouTube.**

**Search for "**** Alice Coopers No More Mister Nice Guy "**

_**Lyrics:**__My dog bit me on the leg today  
My cat clawed my eye  
Mom's been thrown out of the social circles  
And dad has to hide  
I went to church incognito  
When everybody rose the Reverend Smithy  
He recognized me and punched me in the nose_

_He said, no more Mister Nice Guy  
No more Mister Clean  
No more Mister Nice Guy  
He said you're sick, you're obscene_

// Panoramic view of Bauerndorf, curious people running towards the de Mentz factory, smoke pillar rising, chaos reigning //

* * *

_**/**__**Author's Notes/: So, finally, here we have Part 2. I'm sorry for not updating earlier, but I sort of got distracted by another story that wanted to be written (The Breaking of a Hero). **_

_**Part of the reason that this took some time is also the **__**sheer length of the chapter. I hadn't really planned on writing close to 7.800 words, but I sort of got carried away. **_

_**There are some fairly stupid references to a couple of movies**__** and stuff in this chapter. Don't worry if you don't spot them, they're not that interesting. **_

_**Some reviewers have expressed some concern about Ron, **__**how he will react, and why he didn't also fake his death to be able to help Kim. **_

_**Well, I must confess I have some problems with Ron. Not that I don't like him, but I do find it difficult to develop his character and his actions. There will be some gradual revelations on Kim's and Ron's relationship, and what happens to it, though, **__**but perhaps not to the extent that some of you may be hoping. **_

_**As to why he didn't also fake his demise: well Kim had her hand forced when she narrowly survived an assassination attempt, and could get away unobserved. As for Ron, the mysterious hit-man has simply not (yet) made any attempts on his life, so there's no opportunity for him to fake that one of them succeeded!**_

_**Kim could sure use some help, though. **__**Her undercover investigation of Professor Dementor was not very successful, after all. **_

_**I hope you will all want to hang around and see what she'll do next!**_

_**/Feudor/**_


End file.
